Chapter 3: Broken Ships and Unfinished Songs
Celeste plucked the final note on her lumitharp, the melody drifting into the dry Velmaran air. She expected Orion to clap, or at least give some snarky remark about her “payment,” but instead, he just stood there, arms crossed, brow slightly furrowed as if he were listening to something beyond the music.
“Well?” she prompted, adjusting the strap of her instrument. “Was that worth a hyperdrive repair, or should I start looking for a cave to live in?”
Orion blinked as if snapping out of a trance. “You weren’t kidding. You really are a musician.”
Celeste rolled her eyes. “That was kind of implied when I said it.”
He let out a low chuckle. “Most people around here talk a big game, but you actually back it up. That was… unexpected.”
She raised an eyebrow. “I’ll take that as a compliment?”
“Good,” Orion said, turning toward the wreckage of her ship. “Now, let’s see what we’re dealing with.”
Celeste followed as he ran a practiced hand over the hull, inspecting the damage. Up close, it was even worse than she thought—panels dented beyond recognition, wires hanging loose, the main thruster looking like it had lost a fight with a meteor.
“Alright,” Orion muttered, crouching near the undercarriage. “I’ve got bad news, worse news, and slightly less bad news. What do you want first?”
Celeste sighed. “Let’s get the worst over with.”
“Your hyperdrive is fried,” Orion said, wiping his hands on a rag. “Completely shot. You’re not going anywhere without a replacement, and those don’t exactly grow on trees out here.”
Celeste groaned. “Figures. What’s the just ‘bad’ news?”
“Your comms system is toast, so no distress calls.”
“Fantastic,” she muttered. “And the slightly less bad news?”
Orion smirked. “Your power core is still intact. Which means if we can find a hyperdrive, we have a shot at getting this thing back in the air.”
Celeste exhaled, trying to focus on that one silver lining. “Alright. So where does one find a hyperdrive on a planet with, as you put it, ‘no fancy resorts and things that want to eat me’?”
Orion stood, tossing the rag over his shoulder. “There’s a junkyard a few miles from here. Run by a guy named Jex. He’s got all kinds of parts… if you can convince him to part with one.”
Celeste narrowed her eyes. “And let me guess, Jex doesn’t take credits either?”
“Not usually,” Orion admitted. “But he does have a soft spot for unique things.” His gaze flicked to her lumitharp.
Celeste clutched the instrument protectively. “Oh, absolutely not. This is the only thing I have left that isn’t a smoking pile of debris.”
“Relax,” Orion said, smirking. “I’m not saying you have to trade it. Just that… you might be able to charm him a little.”
Celeste crossed her arms. “You want me to serenade a junk dealer into giving us a hyperdrive?”
“Hey, I got a free concert out of it,” Orion said. “Might as well see if your music has interplanetary bargaining power.”
Celeste groaned but knew she didn’t have much of a choice. “Fine. But if I end up performing a full-on musical number for a scrap dealer, I’m adding it to the list of ‘weirdest gigs I’ve ever done.’”
Orion grinned. “Oh, trust me. This place gets weirder.”
And with that, they set off toward the junkyard, where Celeste would soon learn that fixing a ship was nothing compared to navigating the strange economy of Velmara-7.
